Radical
by Qindarka
Summary: There's one thing that will guarantee to move Pietro. SLASH-y implied st.john/pietro


Lance sighed a bit to himself before walking into the room and saying what he did--"Suit up, Pietro, let's go"--because he figured, 'what's the use'. Pietro never needed to be told to prepare himself for a mission several minutes beforehand. It was pointless. He didn't need more than a minute to get himself ready. In fact, a minute was too long. The team could be halfway out the door by the time Pietro decides to move his butt, and he'd _still_ somehow manage to be ten steps ahead of them.

Yet Lance always said it anyway. Just because. Maybe it made him feel better, more mature, especially since he wasn't the leader anymore. In any case, he kept walking, concentrating on fastening his bowl--I'm sorry, _helmet_, his mind on other things than the response that Pietro would never give because the kind of orders Lance gave were hardly worth his time. Lance barely expected acknowledgment, and he would be even more surprised if Pietro noticed that he'd been in the room at all.

However, being that he was so unpredictable in nature (in mutation. even), Pietro proved just how adamant he was on keeping Lance on his toes.

"No...No, I don't think I will," came his final response, dry and with that sort of tone that suggested his face was nothing but smirk.

Lance was halfway out the door before he realized he'd heard something that sounded distinctly like Pietro, and, even by then, the last explanation in his brain was that Pietro _actually_ bothered to talk to him.

"...what?"

"You guys go on without me, I'm not coming." Lance still had his back to the boy, but a rather firm stamp signified that Pietro had used the remote to turn on the television.

Some small ounce of realization dawned on the brunette mutant: Pietro was intentionally being defiant. Lance whirled around, peering with a curious and evil eye at the boy across the room. "You wanna run that by me again?"

Pietro's gaze didn't waver from the television as he rapidly flipped through the channels. "I didn't stutter."

Lance twitched, fighting several urges to unleash his powers ruthlessly upon the Maximoff boy. Instead, he chose to stalk forward, successfully blocking the speedster's view of the TV screen, to which the skinnier boy responded with a barrage of insults and yelling. It wasn't the same as starting an earthquake, but for Lance it was just as effective.

"What the hell are you saying, Pietro, you're not going on the mission? You can't do that!"

Lance was met with cold, narrowed periwinkle eyes. "And why not...? I can do whatever the hell I want; _I'm_ your leader, in case you haven't noticed."

Normally that would have stung the brunette harshly, for it was from him that the position had been usurped by Pietro months ago. But by now, all he could do was roll his eyes. "Yes, Pietro, I've noticed. We've _all_ noticed. But I don't think _you've_ noticed that there are still people above you. People like Magneto. People like Magneto who wouldn't waste a minute crushing us under a steel crate if we don't do what he wants from us."

The way the boy shrugged in response suggested he was underestimating the severity of the situation. "Well, I'm sorry, but you guys are just way too slow for me--"

'He wouldn't be saying that if _I _was in charge,' Lance thought bitterly.

"--and _besiiides_... It's just a scouting mission, you don't need four people for that! You don't even need two people for that! Maybe you should just make Toad do it, I'm sure he'd love it. It'd make him feel useful for once."

By now, it was taking all of Lance's willpower not to slap himself on the forehead. "Pietro, you can't just say that and pass it off as an okay excuse. You're our _leader_; why don't you grow up and start being responsible for a change?"

"Ooh, look who's talking..." Pietro growled, glaring spitefully at Lance before cracking a familiarly sardonic grin. "I don't suppose _you'd _do a better job? I can just see it now: 'sorry guys, can't make it to the mission today, gotta go ogle Kitty outside her windows since she won't return my phone calls'."

It couldn't be assured whether it was the first stab or second at Lance's manhood that did it, but something snapped in him and he lunged forward in what appeared to be an attempt at strangling. Pietro shrieked, narrowly escaping his grasp, hurling himself at inhuman speeds to the other side of the room.

Fortunately for everyone, Lance gave up before he got angry enough to use his powers. "Ugh, I don't know what your dad sees in you."

Pietro stuck out his tongue.

"And for your information," Lance continued, ignoring the childish response, "we _do _need the whole team. Magneto assembled all of us for a reason."

"He probably thinks we're bored or something," Pietro muttered, glancing downward at his now extended fingernails.

"Oh yeah?" Lance challenged, hardening his gaze, "if this mission is just to _amuse_ us and it only _requires _one person to do it, why'd he bother assembling us_ and_ his own guys?"

What happened next shook Lance so completely off guard that he dropped whatever tough demeanor he had recently adopted in an effort to understand exactly what was going on. At Lance's last few words, Pietro's expression shifted so radically, going from bitter, apathetic, defiant and spiraling into a suddenly sparked nervous interest with the likeness of a dog whose ears have perked up at something he's wanted to hear.

"Magneto's... bringing his team? His whole team? All of them?"

Lance cocked an eyebrow at the rushed, anxious words. "...Yes... Because unlike you,_ all_ his team members move when they're told."

"...even Allerdyce?"

Pietro's words were spoken calmly, cautiously, with a tone of curious intrigue, and, most horrifying of all, slowly. It was all very strange to Lance, and the brunette did what he could to answer without triggering any more strange behavior. "Um... Yes...? I did say all of them. You'd think that would include psycho flame boy."

Unfortunately for Lance, these words did in fact induce more perplexing behavior. Pietro suddenly became _silent_, a sight so rare it was almost new and frightening to Lance. The Maximoff's face became pensive, deep in quiet pondering for several awkward moments before at once with a sweeping whoosh he was out of the room.

Before Lance could properly register what the fuck that was about, the boy was back, fully clothed in his battle uniform and...smelling distinctly of something very nice. He threw an impatient glare in Lance's direction, taking note of the helmet that i still /i wasn't properly fastened on.

"Well, what the hell are _you_ waiting for? I swear, Lance, you're never going to make a good leader if you just laze around when you know perfectly well we've got a mission." And with that, he was out the door and halfway down the block before Lance actually managed to fasten his helmet, face strewn with confusion and all.


End file.
